


In Sickness

by asterismal (asterisms)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Sick Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterisms/pseuds/asterismal
Summary: Harry is sick. Voldemort takes care of him.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 11
Kudos: 472
Collections: Corona Challenge





	In Sickness

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [IvoryRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Harry is sick in bed. Voldemort (or Tom, this is up to the author) takes care of him.
> 
> Fluffy, please!

“How are you so bad at this?” Harry asks as he looks up at the ceiling, blinking shampoo filled tears out of his eyes.

When he woke up this morning, congested and feeling sore all over, as if his entire body was one large, exposed nerve, he’d resigned himself to a miserable day of taking care of himself while Voldemort locked himself away in his study. 

But Voldemort had stayed. 

Now, Harry wonders if it’d be better if he hadn’t. 

First, Voldemort managed to spill scalding soup all across Harry’s chest and the blankets he’d cocooned himself in, though he’d quickly soothed away the burn. Then, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that reading the reports from his Death Eaters aloud was appropriate entertainment while he kept Harry company in bed, and Harry hadn’t had the heart to stop him until he was forced to sit through a five page long description about the ingredient sourcing for a new Dragon Pox cure. 

Now, Voldemort is trying and failing to help him bathe after Harry had pestered him long enough about how good the warm water would feel, how much it'd help his aching muscles. 

While the warm water does, in fact, help him relax, it doesn’t feel so great in his eyes—especially when mixed with shampoo. 

Voldemort glares down at him, embarrassed. “Shall I leave you to care for yourself?” he asks. 

Harry pouts. “Nooo,” he says with a whine, turning to nuzzle into the hand that’s holding his head above the water. “I take it back; you’re amazing.” 

With a scoff, Voldemort brushes his thumb above Harry’s brow, wiping away the suds about to drip into his eyes. “How quickly you turn,” he says. 

Harry sniffles miserably, hoping to score some more sympathy from his lover. 

He suspects the watery eyes are helping his case. “You have to be nice to me, Vee,” he says as his eyes slip shut, ignoring the way they burn, irritated. “I’m disgusting.” 

Voldemort pours more warm water over his head.

Harry shivers happily at the feeling. 

“You certainly are,” Voldemort tells him, and Harry sighs as his lover works his fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky I tolerate you anyway.”

Harry grins, feeling fuzzy. “Mhmm.” 

Voldemort turns his head to pour water over the back of his neck. “Stop smiling,” he says, “you look absurd.” 

Harry presses his head back into his hand. “Shan’t,” he mumbles. 

Voldemort lowers Harry just enough to dip the back of his head in the water, and Harry sighs again. He’s so tired. He feels so heavy. “Are you falling asleep?” Voldemort asks, incredulous. 

“No,” Harry lies. He squints his eyes open and sees his lover’s blurry face looking down at him. He shifts, getting more comfortable, and closes his eyes again. “...Maybe.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Voldemort says, wiping more water from his face. “What if I let you drown?”

Harry snorts, then sneezes. 

His lover’s appalled silence is enough to make him collapse into giggles, until Voldemort’s hands are the only thing keeping him above the water.  But even laughing is too much work for him, and he has to stop before he starts coughing. “Y’won’t,” he says once he’s recovered. 

“Hmm?”

“Won’t let me drown.”

“And why is that?” Voldemort asks. Harry doesn’t need to look to know his lover is smirking down at him.

He says through a yawn, “I’d be mad at you.”

“You’d also be dead,” Voldemort says archly. 

Harry pouts, squinting his eyes open again so as to convey the appropriate level of ire. “I’d come back,” he promises. He arches into a stretch then turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of Voldemort’s wrist. “As a ghost.” 

For a long moment, Voldemort doesn’t answer, and Harry lets himself drift, enjoying the feeling of the water against his skin, of his lover’s hands on him.

Then he feels Voldemort’s thin lips on his forehead. “Ridiculous,” he says again, his voice soft. 

And Harry smiles as he lets the warmth lull him to sleep, trusting Voldemort to hold him.

When he wakes next, he’s in their bed, and Voldemort is lying beside him. 

Although his head still feels stuffed full, and he can’t breathe without his throat feeling as if he’s swallowed sandpaper, he feels better just to have his lover close. 

He turns onto his side and splays one hand over Voldemort’s chest.  When Voldemort turns his head to look at him, Harry feels a helpless grin spread across his face. “Thank you,” he says. 

Voldemort blinks back at him, processing. “For what?”

Harry curls closer, tucking his face into Voldemort’s neck. “For taking care of me.” 

With a fond sigh, Voldemort wraps one arm over Harry’s shoulders and pulls him even closer. He doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t need to.

Three days later, it’s Harry’s turn to nurse his lover back to health. Surprising absolutely no one, Voldemort is a terrible patient. 

“I despise you,” Voldemort informs him with a wheeze. His pale cheeks are flushed, and he can barely focus his eyes well enough to glare. “I should have let you drown.” 

Harry snorts, feeding him another spoonful of soup. “Liar.” 


End file.
